


Hero Worship (Or Something Like That)

by AdeleDazeem



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, I think it's a thing, It's a thing now, Jess the Secretary makes a small snarky appearance, SuperCorp, and there is just the slightest whiff of Supercat, but then you blink and its gone and who even cares after that?, is desk!kink a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdeleDazeem/pseuds/AdeleDazeem
Summary: Kara has a thing for desks.She prefers to think of it as her own form of hero worship. Winn has his action figures. James his photos. And Kara? Kara has this.





	Hero Worship (Or Something Like That)

**Author's Note:**

> My first dalliance into the sin bin. Of course it would be because of these two.

Kara has a thing for desks.

She hadn't realized this fact about herself of course until after she'd started working at CatCo.

Really though, who could blame her? Cat Grant, whose desk might as well have been a throne, was well renowned for striking equal parts fear and lust into all who came before her. Kara had hardly been above such a reaction.

On the contrary, her close proximity to the media queen seemed only to stoke her interest. Kara had consequently caught herself daydreaming about her boss and that imposing desk, both proudly on display behind the glass walls of Cat’s office, on more than one slow day.

Many an office supply had met an untimely end on such occasions. Snapping pencils, pens, and the occasional unfortunate coffee mug alike when Cat would look up suddenly, icy blue eyes catching Kara in the act (or rather contemplation of the act). It was usually about that time that Kara would bluster out of the office under the guise of some supergirl-related task. Anything to avoid Cat's laser focus. She’d fly in great looping circles desperate for something, anything, to take her mind off its earlier preoccupation.

Her punches always landed a bit harder on those days, hormones and control were hard to manage simultaneously.

If Cat had ever suspected anything, mercifully she had never mentioned it. Thankfully that was one bone she seemed content to not pick with her assistant.

When Cat left for her sabbatical, Kara thought she had escaped a surely slow and torturous death via unresolved sexual tension. No sooner had she breathed a sigh of relief before fate wound back and pitched her a curveball.

Honestly, it isn’t the desks themselves that Kara’s borderline obsession centers on, but the women who sit behind them. The women who rule over the desks and all who come before them as though they themselves were the descendants of a great House, not Kara.

She prefers to think of it as her own form of hero worship. Winn has his action figures. James his photos. And Kara? Kara has this.

'This' being the pleasure of imagining pressing these women of considerable power and prestige up against their desks in a variety of situations, each more scandalous than the last. She would certainly worship them if given the chance. On her knees even, if that was offered.

At the present moment however, it's not Kara doing the worshipping or the pressing or really anything for that matter. At the present moment, the desks, Kara notes, pardoning the pun, seem to have been turned.

And also, Kara is pretty sure this is real, not some delicious day dream brought on by too many nights patrolling National City rather than sleeping. Seventy per cent sure.

Maybe eighty.

It's hard to think about percentages when Lena is licking into her mouth, making her knees go weak. And _wow_ is there anything this woman isn't good at? Kara is distracted from that musing by just how sinfully good that tongue feels against her own, how good it would feel other places.

At the blonde’s wobble, Lena presses more fully against her, body flush and demanding against Kara’s, and Kara is helpless but to give in.

Yep, _definitely_ real. Because, never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined Lena’s tongue lavishing her own with such single-minded reverence, kissing her like she had been thinking about this, planning it, for ages, not the other way around.

The curveball fate threw her had come in the form of one Lena Luthor.

The meaning of that phrase was becoming increasingly clear for Kara because boy oh boy did Lena have some dangerously addictive curves.

In retrospect, Kara probably shouldn't have been so caught off guard by this happening. She lived in a world populated with aliens, superheroes, and villains - of which she was the first two herself! And yet...

Kara blindly reaches one hand behind her to the desk currently pressing into her ass, checking for any objects of important size or shape. Now would not be a good time to break a lamp or a prized snow globe or something equally loud or messy. Kara is pretty sure that breaking any of those things would lead to a great deal less kissing in the immediate future.

Lena nips at Kara’s bottom lip, sweeps her tongue over the afflicted area. Yep. That is a risk she simply cannot take.

When all she encounter are her own notebook and pen, long since abandoned, she braces a hand against the desk and hops back onto it. Kara's thankful that Lena is too distracted by the lone fingers threading through her increasingly disheveled up-do to realize Kara's resituating was slightly flight-assisted. Lena wastes no time shimmying between her knees so Kara takes that to mean she's in the clear.

She would breathe a sigh in relief if her breath wasn't currently being stolen by the woman now molding her body against her own, one hand steady on her jaw, tilting her mouth just so, the other trailing from her hip down the outside of her thigh.

Kara may be the one with heat vision but she's positive Lena's fingers are burning her up. Fingers that are now hoisting Kara's leg to hook behind other woman's waist, and _fuck_  Kara needs no more instruction, wraps both her legs around Lena's waist and tugs her in insistently.

Lena let's out a pleased little moan at the insistent contact and Kara feels hot all over. It radiates out from the myriad of points of contact between them: Lena's lips now making their way down her jaw; their chests brushing against each other with every panting breath; Lena's hand under Kara’s blazer, fingers skating over the silken fabric covering Kara’s ribs; Lena's hips snug against her own.

Hot.

Hot.

 _Hot_.

Sweat is usually only an issue for no-powers-Kara, but she can feel it begin to bead between her shoulder blades. Lena’s every kiss, every touch, is laced with intent, with purpose. It does nothing to cool Kara’s raging hormones.

The desire is stifling. It settles heavy over Kara like the air before a much needed rain, coming to poil low in her gut. Insistent. Aching.

This had all started innocently enough, Lena pointing out the window and Kara pretending to squint to see what she was talking about: the building L-Corp had just acquired in the hopes of turning into low-cost apartments. Kara had leaned in close to get the correct angle to where Lena was pointing, their faces close as Lena beamed, explaining the importance of combating the increasing gentrification of National City’s downtown.

Truthfully, Kara had heard maybe only every other word.

The afternoon sun had been streaming in, lighting Lena’s face like something straight out of a movie. Radiant. That was the word Kara would use to describe the woman now excitedly outlining a few of the community building ideas she and her team had dreamed up. It was safe to say Kara’s attention had shifted from out the window to the woman standing in front of it.

If Kara is being truthful, though this had started way before this afternoon.

The inescapable pull keeping Kara within Lena’s intoxicating orbit had been building since she and Clark walked into the newly minted L-Corp offices. Lena had exuded nothing but power and confidence that afternoon, every bit her namesake.

But there had been more.

A smile that crinkled her eyes at the corner, warm and nothing like the Luthor ice Clark had warned her about. Kara had grown used to standing in the shadow of her family members as Kara Danvers. Even as Supergirl, playing second fiddle to the man her cousin had grown into while she was still floating through space, Kara was all too familiar with fading into the background. Lena had allowed no such thing. Unlike a certain other female CEO, she’d sidestepped the Kent charm and zeroed in on Kara -- pulled her into the foreground with a well-placed look and sincere compliment.

Naturally, Kara had been intrigued. She didn't need to be a reporter to see the inconsistencies between the Lena Luthor she expected and the Lena Luthor that was slowly being revealed to her with every encounter. But it was deeper than that.

And therein lie the curveball.

It was more than curiosity that had her flying to Lena’s side, both as Kara Danvers and Supergirl alike. Again and again, she found herself rushing to the other woman’s aid, as National City’s resident super, but mainly as Lena Luthor’s friend.

Under the umbrella of this second role was how Kara found herself pressed to Lena’s side one evening, a particularly harrowing day still smarting in Lena’s bones. Arm around shaking shoulders and Lena vulnerable in a way that made Kara’s heart clench viciously, fingers itch to fix, Kara had never meant a promise more.

The devotion she offered had felt as natural as flying.

She would have given anything to extend comfort to this woman who just couldn't seem to catch a break. Lena had looked so fragile yet so determined, even then refusing to let her tears fall. And Kara, Kara had never wanted to let her go, overcome with a surge of protectiveness more powerful than any she had felt garbed in red and blue.

Their dynamic had changed that day. There was an intimacy to their time together now, Lena always finding some reason to touch Kara, whether it be a brush of fingers down her arm, a kiss to Kara’s pinked cheeks that lingered just slightly too long, a guiding hand on the small of her back.

Kara reveled in these soft moments.

Each touch charged with a promise, of what, Kara longed to find out. They felt sacred; a side of Lena not many had the honor to see. And Kara Danvers had somehow won access. She found more reasons to visit Lena, more excuses to be in the dark-haired woman’s presence.

So, this afternoon when Lena had turned towards her, assuming the smile on Kara’s face was from her equal enthusiasm to L-Corp’s newest side project, and asked her opinion, Kara hadn't thought twice.

“I think you’re amazing,” she’d breathed. Too awestruck to be embarrassed or anything but honest.

The sincerity had caught Lena off guard, her eyes widening slightly before she looked down at her feet. There was a faint blush dusting her cheeks and a smile in her voice when she spoke again. “I think you mean the venture.”

“No.”

“Kara…” and Kara knew that self-deprecating chuckle anywhere. She’d hidden behind it since crashing into this planet over a decade ago. And Lena, strong, beautiful, good Lena didn't deserve to be doing the same in that moment. Not there. Not in front of Kara who believes in her so much her heart just might explode from it.

So Kara had interrupted her with a soft hand on her arm. Lena met her eye. “No, Lena. I'm serious. The idea is beyond fantastic, of course. But the woman behind it? She’s the one who never seems to stop amazing me.”

Kara’s thumb had started brushing across Lena’s bicep unbidden, just barely flirting with the skin beneath the short peplum sleeve of her blouse. Lena had taken an unsteady breath, her heart giving an undeniable kuh-thud -- from the electricity sparking along their skin or Kara’s words or who even knew anymore with Lena’s green eyes boring into Kara’s own like they were.

Even with the distracting staccato of Lena’s heart picking at her attention, Kara pressed on. It was important. It was important Lena know just what Kara thought of her, truly.“I've gotten the chance to meet my fair share of heroes since working at Catco. You may not go swooping about in a cape, but that doesn't mean you aren't just as inspiring.” She’d chuckled at her own cheesiness, her other hand going up to fix her glasses out of reflex, the weight of her words having surprised even her. “For a town so obsessed with all things super, it's a wonder you don't get more recognition, Miss Luthor.”

Lena had leaned in then. “Well,” she’d said, conspiracy on her lips, and a gleam in her eye, “Say what you want about the cape, but you can hardly blame the population for being so taken with our primary-color-clad friend. I'm afraid,” Here, her voice had taken on a breathier quality, Kara leaning in even further to catch every whispered syllable as it tripped over Lena’s full lips like a secret (super hearing be damned), “that even I've become quite smitten with her smile, those eyes.”

And just like that, the lightness of the moment had stretched, twisted, coiled into something heavier, richer. Lena’s eyes had dropped to Kara’s lips and Kara felt the twist in her chest, the coil tightening low in her stomach as Lena’s pupils, wide even in the afternoon sun, swung back to meet her own.

“Lena?”

“Hmm?” She’d barely hummed out, lips parted as they were. Kara couldn't remember when they had gotten so close, breaths already mingling. Just a little closer and they'd be...

“Can I-”

The ‘yes’ Lena had whispered out against Kara’s lips was felt more than heard, and that had been all the consent Kara had needed.

The kiss had started off chaste, a tentative press of lips until Kara had leaned back just enough to breathe out a ‘wow’ so sincere that Lena couldn't help the rich chuckle that escaped. This close, the warm vibrations wrapped around Kara’s body, sliding down her spine, eliciting a shiver. She never knew being this close to someone could be so luxurious.

When their lips met again tentativeness had been tossed out the window.

Lena gives her a little nip now, just right where her jaw meets neck and Kara jolts in surprise. The movement has her unintentionally grinding against Lena's body and Kara's moan is broken off midway, choking into a desperate, unexpected whine.

She is definitely going to have to throw these panties out later.

Lena, ever the quick study, takes this as her cue. She slow roll of her body into the v of Kara's hips has Kara nearly falling apart right then. The sure, controlled movement of Lena’s body against her own, enough to evoke mental images of future events that have Kara's fingers wrapping around the edge of the wooden desk and praying she has enough presence of mind not to accidentally crush it. She wants desperately to run her fingers along Lena's back, maybe even grab the curve of her ass and pull the other woman closer as she directs them through this, but she doesn't have that much faith in her self-control.

Especially when Lena's fingers slide back into the base of Kara's ponytail, kneading the tense muscles there for a moment, then tangling in her blonde hair and tugging. And _ooh_ , Kara knew she liked it a little rough, just enough bite and burn to feel through her super strength, but the way her eyes roll back into her head at this she may as well have never been touched before.

Kara’s throat now bared, Lena sets to work, lips lavishing the exposed skin covering her bounding pulse. Someone moans and Kara can't tell whose mouth it came from, Lena's practically fused with her throat as it is now.

A set of even, white teeth close around Kara's pulse and for a blinding moment Kara is a wreck of relief and grief that her impenetrable skin will not allow the woman pressed closer than her supersuit to leave her mark.

"Lena." It comes out more gravel than syllable. Kara isn't even sure why she says it honestly, just that it's the only word her mind can formulate in this moment. A reverent prayer for more? A reprieve? Her mouth desperate for the taste of it either way. And if Kara were in any other headspace right now she would probably be embarrassed with just how _broken_ the other woman's name sounds on her lips.

She is _Supergirl_ for goodness sakes. She's supposed to be indestructible, indomitable, at the very least _in control of herself_.

But here, sitting on Lena Luthor's desk, shamelessly grinding into the one woman Alex would prefer Kara be keeping her distance from more than anyone else in this city, Kara feels like she could lose that carefully guarded control at any moment. All she would need is for Lena to say the word and she'd shatter, come shivering and splintering apart just like the wood of this desk if Kara isn't careful.

That thought has Kara purposefully loosening the fingers clutching the edge of the desk, wiggles them as discreetly as possible, hopeful it will dispel some of the tension building beneath the skin, thrumming through her bones. Her body is practically vibrating with the energy Lena’s tongue and teeth and lips are sparking.

“Do you have any idea, how long I've been wanting to do this?” The question is whispered hot and dirty into the skin below Kara’s ear. Nothing in Kara’s thirty plus years of living in more than one galaxy could have prepared her for that dark as barrel aged whiskey timbre Lena breathes over her flushed skin. “How long I've ached to taste you?”

She short circuits. If it was possible for her to pass out, she would do it right then.

Instead, a whimper trips from Kara’s lips -- an honest to Rao _whimper_ \-- and it is taking every ounce of Kara’s concentration to not do something stupid like break the desk she is currently sitting on or it's owner who is currently making her lose her mind with every dirty word and open mouthed kiss. She didn’t realize words could have such a physical effect. And yet, here she is: practically humping Lena’s stomach, want pooling thick in her gut, dripping, no doubt ruining her panties just from the velvet sound of this woman’s voice.

Her pen goes rolling behind her, only barely noticeable to her super hearing over the din of heavy breathing and the intoxicating race of Lena's heartbeat.

Kara’s momentarily stunned by that thought: she is causing this reaction. It’s her body against Lena’s, her skin on the other woman’s lips that has her heart pounding like it is. She’s used to Supergirl’s body, covered in its suit and standing for hope and power to elicit a strong, knee-jerk response. But not Kara Danvers.

A rush of hot pride floods her veins.

Her spine straightens and she pulls the other woman closer, hand guiding their mouths back together for a fiery kiss. The knowledge that she, Kara Danvers, novice reporter, virtual nobody, is causing Lena Luthor, the picture of poise and control, to lose her breath is almost as intoxicating as the clash of teeth and tongue.

Lena's fingers go for Kara's belt buckle and Kara remembers that if Lena keeps going her fingers won't be met with the heat of her flushed skin, but the cool, synthetic feel of her supersuit. She freezes, the realization hitting her square in the chest. Her body goes rigid into the press of Lena’s lips. And Lena, of course, notices. Stops her movements immediately, worry evident in her eyes as she looks at Kara.

Kara scrambles for an excuse to explain her sudden change, anything that will save Lena from second-guessing what she wants. Because she definitely wants. Oh Rao, does she _want_. Just not here, her secret so close to the surface, like a bubble about to pop and ruin everything between them. Lena’s trust means more to her than she can put into words. When she tells Lena -- because she will tell her, Kara has no doubt of that now -- she wants to be level-headed, not hopped up on endorphins and hormones and the feel of Lena between her thighs.

Kara can’t think of any words of assurance. So instead, she acts.

She reaches a hand up to trace Lena’s kiss-bruised mouth. She tucks a few stray strands of the other woman’s hair back behind her ear before settling her hand to cup Lena’s cheek. The movement grounds them. Lena leans into the reassuring touch, but otherwise keeps her hands, her whole body, stock still, waiting patiently for Kara’s next move.

Kara is saved from making one by Lena's assistant, Jess, who chooses this exact moment to buzz in on the intercom. She could not have planned better timing if she had tried. Kara silently thanks Jess for the interruption even as her traitorous body grumbles and seethes.

It is really a testament to Lena’s level of affectedness that her response to this is simply: “Fuck.” A word Kara has never heard the other woman utter (she’s pretty sure she’s never heard her swear at all actually, come to think of it), now breathed out over the skin of Kara’s palm as it rests on Lena’s cheek.

She can't help but shiver at the feel of the warm exhale, at the thought of Lena saying that same word in a different context. Lena stays still, eyes closed and seemingly soaking in the simple comfort of Kara’s hand on her cheek for half a buzz longer before straightening.

Lena knows Jess would never enter her office without permission, but she's also never been one to let a call go unanswered. She and Kara have that in common; a trait unfortunate only in a situation such as this one, Kara decides.

She leans around Kara and hits the intercom button on her phone.

"Yes, Jess?" And Kara marvels at the clarity of her voice. There's no trace of the passion and intent of 30 seconds ago. It’s professional and sure even as her cheeks still flame, Kara’s legs still snug around her waist, heat of their bodies apparent even through the layers of clothing that separate their skin.

"Your 3 o'clock is here, Ms. Luthor."

The 'and has been for 15 minutes' lingers unspoken on the line as Lena sees the time on her watch.

"Of course, Jess. Thank you. Ms. Danvers and I will wrap up our interview now. I'll be out shortly."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kara can’t decide if the slight smirk in Jess’s words is real or imagined as she clicks off the intercom to go entertain Lena's colleague for another few minutes, leaving she and Lena finish up their 'interview.'

Kara can't help but grin at the absurdity. When Lena leans back and rests her hands on Kara's shoulders, fingers smoothing out the lapels of her rumpled blazer, the dark haired woman returns it.

This time, the warmth Kara feels centers decidedly around her heart.

"Well," Lena says. Kara slowly unfurls her legs from around the other woman's waist, releasing her. It is the last thing Kara wants to do. Lena doesn't make a move to step away. Apparently, Kara isn’t alone in her reluctance.

"That was..." Kara takes the hand that had been 30 seconds from breaking Lena's desk and pushes up her glasses, righting them on the bridge of her nose. The all encompassing fire that had been raging between them has shifted, the moment staid, desperation replaced with a thrilling sense of potential. Like static before a storm. It’s left Kara bashful, excited yet unsure what to do with herself in this newfound territory. She grins into her lap, "Some interview."

Lena hums, tucks a loose strand of hair behind Kara's ear. Fingers linger, cup a heated cheek. “No doubt the most memorable interview I’ve ever had the pleasure of partaking in.” Kara looks up and the grin she sees on Lena’s face feels like this earth's yellow sun.

That possibility is still crackling.

"I suppose, uh. I should let you get back to work, hmm? Keeping clients occupied while they're waiting for the boss is never fun."

"I should be done here by six."

"Oh?"

"Yes. So, barring any natural disasters or daring Supergirl outings Snapper will no doubt have you cover..." She lets the invitation float there in the air, her nerves showing for the first time. She looks up from Kara's lapel's she is still tracing, to meet Kara's eyes.

The ball is in Kara's court.

Kara takes the opportunity to finally allow herself to touch. She places a hand on Lena's hip, fingers flexed just soft enough to impart purpose.

"Maybe I could catch a bus over? And we could...resume where this interview left off?"

Lena answers by pulling Kara in for a kiss. Her words brush across Kara's lips as they pull apart. "I'll send you the address."

 

Later, in Lena's impossibly big and soft bed, after Lena has finished work and Kara has had a chance to change out of her supersuit, Lena will pause what she is doing, lips nothing short of worshiping the quivering skin from Kara's navel to the inside of her thigh, and look up at Kara with impossibly sure and soft eyes, full of emotions so deep, so intense, Kara's breath will catch.

"I want to see you," Lena will say, voice graveled and heavy with meaning. Kara's mind will scatter in a million different directions at the phrase and the unwavering need behind it.

Lena will lean up, not over, but to the side, distinctively giving the blonde sprawled naked on her back a little space. One forearm braced besides Kara's head, the other hand will trail up the taut, smooth planes of the body she will have spent the last maddening minutes mapping with her mouth: from the curve of her hip to the ridges of her stomach, through the valley of her breasts straight up to her temple where her glasses faithfully rest. Her glasses. Lena runs a lone finger along the cool plastic. The last vestige of control Kara has maintained in this encounter. Her safety net.

The implication, the question, hits her. The gravity of the request slamming into her soul like a ton of Kryptonite laced bricks.

Lena won't look away, those deep, deep green eyes boring into Kara's blue ones. She won't move. Just wait. Not pushing, just patient.

When Lena asks this, she won't be asking to watch Kara come shattering apart around her fingers.

She'll be asking to see Kara. All of her. Not just the front she wears to CatCo every day, not even necessarily the suit she wears underneath it, but _her_ : Kara Zor El Danvers. A person Kara herself is still struggling to know.

Lena’s fingers are impossibly steady against the frame of Kara's glasses, and Kara has never been more thankful. For once Lena’s heartbeat is the smoother of the two. Kara focuses on the even beats, centers herself.

"Trust me," Lena will ask. A prayer, quiet and steadfast. And undemanding.

And Kara will.


End file.
